You must forgive the poet’s license I take. . Why do you think I’m indulging in all this very un-English love talk?’ ‘But you are idiot, Gérard. “That is as you will,” she said. She gathered stones to place upon the makeshift grave. She was surprised and stared at him when he did not immediately leave the bed as Gianfrancesco always did, but instead rested on his elbows. .
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